Cabaret-circus-champagne extravaganza Sabrage has been refreshed just in time to lift our hearts in this sorry hour. Wars continue in the Middle East despite claims of a “ceasefire”. Fuel and food prices are heading north for the summer. Fascism leers openly on both sides of the Atlantic. The thirteenth season of Love Island is launching in less than a month. These are desperate times which force one to look deep into one’s soul and quietly ask: what kind of world are we leaving to Cher?
Thankfully, this slice of French-themed filth and depravity is still going strong in its dedicated bar-cum-big top in King’s Cross and now has some new faces to lure us back in. Front and centre is the Californian Alex Makardish with an outrageously Gallic accent. With panache to spare, he takes over the host role first played in London by Rémi Martin. Beside him for much of the night, Neven Connolly steps into Spencer Novich’s boots as if he was born into them and the pair work fantastically together — with and without their outfits on.
As one may have perhaps surmised by now, it’s fair to say that this co-production by Australia’s Strut & Fret and London’s Menier Chocolate Factory is strictly an adult affair. Very much talent-forward and clothing-backward, there is not a bashful moment. Even those heeding the first rule of cabaret will likely find themselves caught up in the onstage antics; don’t be surprised if you end up soaked before the night is out. Indeed, the title comes from the showy act of lopping off the top of a champagne bottle with a sabre, maybe a metaphor for how director Scott Maidment wants this experience to go (an immense explosion of sound and wetness followed by a trip to the laundrette).
One of Maidment’s previous productions Limbo saw performers shimmy up tall bendy poles along the outside of the stage before leaning right over those at the front. Here, that idea is taken a step further: those closest to the front can expect to be bombarded with lewd propositions, feathers, glitter, a huge flag and maybe even a glass of champagne from directly overhead. You don’t get this at the National.
There are no weak links in this eight-strong crew who hail from all over the globe and bring Cirque du Soleil levels of skill to a much more intimate environment. Original cast member New Zealander Emma Phillips has been trained in two Chinese acrobatic schools and now juggles delicate parasols and hefty wooden tables using just her feet.
Hailing from Canada’s Great Lakes, newcomer aerialist Julia Stewart adds some much-needed verticality to the proceedings. Christian Nimri is dashing in at least two senses of the word as the Australian whizzes around on rollerskates while zipped into a sparkling blue corset. Then there is Northampton’s Jarnéia Richard-Noel who originated the role of Catherine Of Aragon in Six The Musical; her soulful singing here gives us chills from crown to corns.
Between and betwixt the circus magic, there are routines that will undoubtedly haunt the memory of some of those present. Uppermost is Sabrage’s signature “cockenspiel” act. Performed in the nude by Makardish from behind a small groin-level screen, he plays out a song made famous by Edith Piaf. As much theatre of the mind as of the loins, the sound of him slapping his penis rhythmically against his legs to the refrain of The Little Sparrow’s “Je ne regrette rien” is arguably either Sabrage’s highest or lowest point depending on how seriously one takes this kind of thing.
There will be accusations when a show veers into the adult end of entertainment that it rightfully belongs on the lowest rung of taste and societal regard. It’s been almost twenty years since the Oliviers even deigned to nominate a production such as this, something of a shame all round. Sabrage cleverly strikes a fine balance between the crude and the creative: for every time a rubber scrotum is left hanging out of Connolly’s trousers about or a male audience member is asked to simulate the strokes of masturbation in time to a classical tune, there is something which would not be out of place in a West End theatre.
Dazzlingly choreographed musical sequences make full use of Lafayette’s cavernous space, using music from such diverse bands as The Magnetic Fields and The Bloodhound Gang. There’s also an epic twist on Les Beaux Frères’ iconic duo towel routine which folds in all the cast members. Group numbers like this can be the hardest to pull off in an art form which is dominated more by solo performances than collaborative ones so it is to Maidment’s credit that he finds superlative ways to use all the talents at hand.
Within a London scene filling up with corporate cabaret, Sabrage holds its own. It will never be as raw or as outrageous as anything Rose Wood conjures up at The Box nor as ostensibly theatrical as The Lost Estate’s Chat Noir but, then again, neither is it Tosca Rivola’s Sinematic. Strut & Fret are no stranger to these shores having brought sublime cabarets like Cantina, Limbo and Blanc de Blanc here a decade ago and the fantastically fun Sabrage is hardly the black sheep of that family. Hopefully its success will encourage the company to bring over some of its classics or even its latest works because, quite frankly, the world needs shows like Sabrage right about now.
Sabrage continues at Lafayette until September.
Photo credit: Matt Crockett
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